Whipped
by KuriQuinn
Summary: By popular demand, a companion piece to Drowning in the Clouds. Kai Hiwatari muses over the enigma that is Chaya Mizuhara.


**_Whipped _**

**Author**: KuriQuinn

**Title**: Whipped

**Fandom**: Beyblade

**Disclaimer**: I don't own Beyblade, but if I did I'd probably be rich and still reading fanfiction

**Pairing**: I'll never tell…

**Rating**: R for language

**Summary**: By popular demand, a companion piece to _Burning in the Sea_. Kai Hiwatari muses over the enigma that is Chaya Mizuhara.

**Takes Place:** Through-out _Drowning in the Clouds_ and about two days of _Burning in the Sea _

**Note:** I have read numerous reviews saying that they wanted a chapter in Kai's point-of-view. Unfortunately, that won't be happening in the Fateful Series itself, but that doesn't stop me from writing up this little piece, does it? Anyway, enjoy.

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**Whipped; **(adj._) to be completely controlled by one's significant other - __in most cases a guy being controlled by his girlfriend. _

I don't have a significant other. I don't even have a girlfriend any more. But the fact that I'm completely controlled does tend to ring true in my case.

_**Controlled; **(_adj_.) restrained or managed or kept within certain bounds. _

Not something I ever figured I'd be suffering from. Of course, I've always tried to look at it from a different perspective, so I've never seen it as being controlled. Never been bored enough to try to figure it all out. Of course, the damnedest thing about English class is that you have more than enough time to think about the philosophy of your life and mentally shoot yourself for everything that you've been stupid about over the last few months. Most other classes don't let you get those thoughts in, considering you're busy trying to pay attention to the basic quadratic function in Math class, or remember the date of some stupid battle in the seventeen-hundreds for History. English class is the real show-stopper because you already know everything there is to know and you couldn't care less about run-on-sentences and compound subjects, so you end up looking out the window for something to do.

Before you've even realized what you're doing, you've started self-analyzing.

Or, should I say, I'm self-analyzing.

Maybe I'll become a psychoanalyst. Of course, people aren't exactly sure about me the minute they look at me. We'd have to do a large quantity of trust exercises before I got anyone to express their innermost thoughts to me.

And to think, all this inner-monologue didn't start up until little over a year ago. Before that I didn't even bother to think – something Taryn still accuses me of not doing – let alone self-analyze. I was at the height of it all. For two years of High School I had been 'it'. No one wanted to annoy me off for fear of dire retribution, I was star player on the volleyball team until I quit a month in because it was getting boring, I broke the record for the most visits to Clarkson's office (a horrible but status-raising feat), my grades were setting me up to become the one with the highest general average in the entire school, I even had senior girls eating out of my hand and I was _the_ one that people wanted to kiss up to. All of this without any effort on my part what so ever.

If I had been a jock it probably would have been termed the ' Hollywood' life.

And then _she_ showed up.

I shouldn't say 'showed up'.

I should say crashed into the picture, and in the literal sense, too.

Five-foot-five, rosy skin although not from the caked-on make-up that most girls at this school suffered from, angry-pretty-brown-eyed, a small nose, freckles that covered most of her cheeks and out of all things masses of blond hair.

I hated her.

It was mostly the petty fact that she had crashed into me as after spring-jumping over a dumpster and ruined the punch-line to one of my rare jokes with Tala that made me dislike her. It was even more so the fact that she didn't seem to know who she was talking to when she demanded that I help her up, which, to my credit, I didn't.

I thought after watching her speed off in a hurry that I'd never have to bother with someone as annoying as her again. Tala and I joked about it the entire way to school about how much of a scatter-brained twit this girl that neither of us even knew must be. We were both in trouble when we got to school, but we both knew we wouldn't be penalized or anything. The school board and all the faculty knew what positions our grandfather's held and what trouble they might be in for getting us into a spot of mindless trouble. Such troublesome, useless things were beneath men such as mine and Tala's grandfather's…

Of course, she didn't know this. She obviously didn't care either, especially when she didn't seem to care when I insulted her. In fact, she just threw it back into my face as though it was nothing and then ignored me – until she got me in trouble with Mrs. Giles. And it was Franka's fault, stupid girl. She stole my frigging credit card and stuck it down her shirt! Why the hell do I have to get in trouble for it?

This had never happened before. This still doesn't happen. People know that when they get in my way, bad things happen.

Except her. She always seems to be able to get out unscathed and dish it all back.

I loathed her.

Things went to hell not even a day later and I was left stunned at her gall. Every day when I tried something to at least put her in her place, the minute my back was turned, she had already pulled the wool over my eyes. I got my ass kicked by her in a less than friendly beach-volleyball match that left me kissing the dirt and her being hefted onto everyone's shoulders and dunked in the lake-water.

Me.

Kai Hiwatari.

The best damned volleyball player that Bethany High has ever seen! The only upside to that entire day was when my friends locked her in the outhouse where she was changing. It was pretty funny, until I noticed that she wasn't cursing us out any more from within but actually screaming and crying. Now that I think about it, if I had known she was claustrophobic, I probably would have told them to back off and we would have gotten her another way. I felt the newest and strangest feeling pulling at the back of my mind: guilt. I had seen the way her cheeks had flamed at the embarrassment of what we did to her, and for a moment she wasn't the smart-ass bitch with the wise-guy comebacks that I had begun to see as a near worthy opponent. She was human, like me, and obviously had a limit to what she could put up with.

Over the next week I had laughed and carried on, showing off that no one could get past me, while the girl I was dating had boasted that it had been her idea, because no one messed with her boyfriend. Cow.

For the first week since school had started, there were no whoopee-cushions, or thumb-tacks, or digitally edited pictures of me wearing fishnets and a go-go girl outfit. And the guilt grew.

I took out my frustration on Hilary and her little group of friends, filling Hilary's locker with a back of road-kill that Bryan had wordlessly passed me the day before, filling their lunches with a thick paste that made their teeth stick together and they had to go see a dentist to get them unstuck. It was the perfect way to vent, although the ulterior motive that even I didn't see was to get her out of the stupor she had fallen into. It seemed to work, too, because even after I stopped, the pranks continued. Itching powder on the toilet seats, gum in their hair, dead fish in their desks. Soon Clarkson was bringing the two of us into her office again to chew us out. We both got detention, but it seemed as though she was back on track.

And I could go back to hating her in peace, without the annoying, new-found guilt nagging at me.

Both of us ignored each other for about two weeks, where we did our own things. I hung out in the back of the school, trying to start fires with my cigarette lighter, while she locked a student into a sarcophagus during a school field-trip to the museum in town. Even I had had to laugh at that one and admit that it was good. Of course she'd gotten stuck with an exchange student in punishment, but when the Treasure Troll showed up, I saw that it wasn't going to be as much a punishment for her as it'd be for me. Another one. As though the rest of her friends didn't drive me nuts, I needed another one with no fear or qualms about insulting back.

My pride was suffering a powerful downfall. And so was my popularity.

Even though I'm sure that she's the densest human being to ever exist, I know for a fact that more than three-quarters of the male student body at Bethany wanted her. In both senses. At the time I thought they were all nuts, as I told that chump Kon more than ten times a day. Any idiot could see that he had it going for her, but he kept feeding anyone that asked the usual bullshit about not wanting to say anything because he liked being friends with her.

Fuck that, I would have just gone for the direct approach and had it over with.

But no, prissy-rich boy gives up everything just to let her in on his feelings. He even cancelled his huge Halloween bash for her.

Heh.

That was a good one…I'll never forget (although I wish I had thought to take a picture) of when she dressed up as a frilly, pink, frocked little girl complete with pig-tails and red cheeks that night. Tala, Bryan and I had been cruising around the town in Tala's car, trying to find a party that we could crash. Basically, we were smoking up a storm and Bryan was getting stoned as usual, when I suggested we go find Clarkson and play a prank. I already had a great idea, and the others liked it. We were interrupted in our plots when we came upon the four of them: Kon, Granger, Delk and the she-devil herself. Tala, being the idiot he was, invited them along by playing the 'chicken-shit' card, which resulted in me having to play car-seat to – you guessed it – _her_.

Right away I was pissed at the fact that she was there and decided to get payback later on after we pulled the prank, leaving Clarkson fighting against a coil of rope and an apple, looking like a giant pig-turkey-hybrid. I think somewhere in the constitution that we committed a legal offence, but whatever. It was worth it. We drove off without the little princess, her friends yelling at us to turn back, but we didn't. I could hear her screaming at us in the distance, but didn't care. I was one up on her and that was all that mattered.

I'm a stupid fucking – but hot – idiot.

It turned out that she took the rap for the entire thing, which got her in trouble not only with Clarkson and the school board, but the local authorities too. The way I heard, she nearly got expelled and it went on her permanent record. That didn't matter to me then. All I cared about was letting everyone know what had happened on Halloween night.

No one was more surprised than I was when all of a sudden, the Monday after we all came back to school, I found my ass hitting the ground, my lips cut and bleeding down my chin, staring up at the most angry brown black eyes I'd ever seen. What followed was the most intense fight I've ever been in, which is saying something considering she really didn't have any idea what she was doing, but still tried to beat the shit out of me anyway. I hardly curbed my blows and the fight resulted in her breaking my nose and me putting her into a concussion. One thing I've learned: she swings a mean right hook.

My grandfather was ready to call up his lawyers and sue the Mizuhara family for everything they were worth, but I stopped him. My head hurt just thinking about him doing something like that. Reasons why I'm so sure that that's the day I think it happened.

All of a sudden, I was looking at her differently. She wasn't just some bitch that could fight back and was so blissfully stubborn that I just couldn't crack. She was an equal, in practically everything I could do. And not just because of the fight. She was different from everyone else. Still is. Most girls chat on the internet and talk on the phone or stand around in cliques after school jabbering on about clothes. They don't know how to do anything that might get them dirty. She single-handedly fixed Tala's car, emerging grease-covered but smug from beneath the hood. She said she was only doing it for the reward. I knew she was doing it for the challenge. She went to a dance and instead of smoking up like all the "cool girls" or grind dancing with the others, she was out in the parking lot showing us how to sabotage the teachers' cars. And she took the blame for us, willingly this time. Normal people don't do that if they hate you.

Christmas vacation made me realize that I missed her. Two weeks of nothingness. Nothing spontaneous. Nothing interesting. No biting remarks. Even Taryn, who had done a complete one-eighty from my sweet, adorable, worth-protecting younger sister into a skin-head Goth-bitch with sarcasm as well-toned as my own, didn't tell me off the way she did. When the two of them met in January, I couldn't help but smirk, even when Taryn decked me for insulting her new friend, because things were the same. Back to normal.

Or were they?

I figured that it was not that bad for someone to stand up to me and not just let me walk all over them like everyone else had. I really didn't mind that time when she walked into my room by mistake, even though I hate when people come anywhere near my stuff. To my surprise, my worst enemy seemed to fit right into my room and I had to keep myself from asking her to stay there. Instead, I insulted her as was usual.

It was around that time that she began to date that sappy idiot Kon, and for once in my life I felt yet another new feeling: jealousy.

To what, I was an idiot not to know, but whenever I saw her in the hallways with him hanging around, draping his arms over her like she was his I felt like strangling him with a piano wire. Suddenly she was never alone. All our verbal fights tended to be toned down because I didn't want to spar while Kon was there, and besides, he tended to pull her off before she could even get started on the comebacks. He'd been like it ever since the fight and I hated it. She didn't get into as much trouble as she had before, so it was mostly me suffering Clarkson's wrath and bad breath alone in that shit-hole of an office.

People seemed to think that a break had passed over the two of us; that there might be an agreement that we came to. Suddenly, some no name loser thought he had to gall to mouth off to her. And even though she gave him the run-around, with her sharp tongue, leaving him dazed and confused even while she had already left ten minutes before, I still brought the guy to the alley-way behind the school and showed him a thing or two.

No one else tried shit-all with her after that.

It was about then that I sat myself down and had a nice, long talk with myself. And as creepy as that sounds, it actually helped. Luckily, I'm one of those people that once I decide something, I accept it for truth and go about making it happen. The fact was, that thanks to a few bruises, a lot of laughs (sometimes at myself) and some lessons that I only learned because she decided to rain on my parade, I had developed a 'thing' for her. What kind of 'thing', I wasn't sure, but I'd work on that later.

First I had to figure out if there was any possible chance of…well, anything really.

And the time came when I was walking down a street somewhere and I was suddenly bowled over by two animals: one that seemed to be some sort of tiny dog, and a naked cat. Or maybe it was one of those hairless ones. Whatever it was, it crawled up my shirt and wouldn't come out until I was a safe distance away from the poor excuse for a dog. I suffered a bunch of claw marks to the stomach, and more than a fair share to my hands and arms as I tried to figure out where this 'thing' belonged. As luck would have it, there was an address on it and that one happened to belong to her. I managed to dump the cat-demon-spawn into a box from the trash to save myself further injuries.

Of course, when she saw me she slammed the door in my face and called me a solicitor, but I didn't much mind that part. Her dad seemed to be oblivious of the tension even when she told him that I'd given her a concussion and I found roped into helping to clean up the house, much to her blatant annoyance. It was before I left that day that I made one of the biggest mistakes ever, as well as the smartest moves ever.

While cleaning out the tiny, dust-filled basement she got mad at a _tiny_ comment that I made and chucked a box full of her old journal entries at the wall. And after another _tiny_ comment she punched me again and had to be dragged up the stairs by her brother and father, while her mother apologized and told me her daughter was just suffering from a mental imbalance and she hoped I wasn't going to mention anything to any lawyer.

Stupid woman needn't have bothered considering I played the dark-me and stole the journals in them. It wasn't my first plan, but it was just so easy to take them.

At this point I would like to remind everyone that despite my inherent perfection, lapses in judgment do occur. Like they did that time, although some parts of me don't regret finding out more about her. The first page into everything, I had decided that anything I read wouldn't be told to anyone. I kept the journals locked in my room under the loose floorboard that not even Taryn knew about and read over her journals so many times that I could probably quote them if I'd been asked.

I'd also like to remind everyone that I'm not a stalker. I devious, devilishly handsome jerk that wanted to know more about her than anyone else did. And I did. To tell you the truth, despite the smart-ass bitch façade, she's like any other girl on the inside and I found myself wanting to see that. She didn't even show the soft side to Kon. Didn't allow herself to be open with him – I mean, hell, for all their seeming closeness, I don't think I ever saw her even kiss the guy and they were dating for three months.

Naturally, intervention was needed. Kon could go screw himself for all I cared, I was not going to bother with the pansy-ass, pussy-footing manner that my friend seemed to be in the need to show.

Unfortunately for me, when the chance came the first time I bypassed it. I had her in my damn lap and she was so out of it that I could probably have gone all the way with her without her knowing it. I was planning on it, too.

And then she had to look at me suddenly with those big brown eyes that usually looked at me with endless hate, and for once they were filled with something like serious worry, maybe pity and something else I didn't understand.

_"I don't think you should smoke. It's bad for your health." _

No one had ever expressed any concern for me the way she did than. My gramps probably knew what I was up too but didn't say anything, Taryn and I haven't spoken to each other like siblings since we were five and six, and my friends don't give a shit.

And here was my enemy, who hated me more than anything, expressing concern for me. Even after she passed out and I carried her back to Kon so that he wouldn't find her passed out having an asthma attack (yeah, contrary to popular belief, I'd known about that since she spent Christmas in the hospital. It was a good thing sometimes that Kon talked so much about her), I had decided that I wouldn't put another cigarette in my mouth.

It's been fucking hard, but I've done it.

And then, just when I figured life sucked to its utmost, I had to play the stunned-confused-brainless teenaged boy thinking with his head instead of his head. I had been all set to return to box to her on the last day of school so we could avoid one of the bloody confrontations that seemed to happen so many times, ready to at least apologize for taking it and try to make-up for it _somehow_ and she had to come stomping by and practically fall into my arms, making me drop said box somewhere to my left.

Life being what it was, when she looked up for a moment our eyes locked and neither of us looked away.

Fuck my hatred of sappy chick-flick style imitations in life, what happened next was enough to make me watch every single one of them just to make it happen again. I guess I had just finally cracked, and being so close to her that I could smell the lavender didn't help the fact. Before my brain even decided to wake up to the fact that I had pulled her closer, let alone moved, I was crushing her lips to mine and to my surprise, I didn't even have to coax her. She was kissing me back, albeit hesitantly. I don't even think she knew she was doing it, or that she was gripping at the sleeves of my shirt. I'm not even going to waste time describing the feeling, considering it was a 'you had to be there' type of thing. Of course, if you had been there, I'd have been very angry and tried to kill you very violently for ruining the moment.

Which Kon did seconds later by nearly catching the two of us and causing me yet another bruise as she swung upwards at my jaw. I was more than amused when she chewed me out much later because I had 'stolen' her first kiss.

Imagine that. Chaya Mizuhara, a normal girl with normal feelings, instead of being ice-bitch.

I wanted more.

An entire summer remembering that kiss that should have never happened, plus hating my family every damned day and wanting to get somewhere away from all those idiots that seemed to be coming around lately had me eager to see her again. I didn't tell anyone about what had happened, and I'm pretty sure that she would rather have open-mouth-kissed Clarkson than admit to anyone that she had remotely enjoyed being kissed by me – because there was no way in hell she couldn't have – and the result was me having this huge secret and the only person I told was Taryn. Who amazingly didn't say anything and hasn't as far as I can tell…

Returning to school was the highlight of my September for once in my life, and I found that now I seemed to have ways of making her blush and pale within two-point-five seconds deviation at the mere implication of what had happened. Our verbal scuffles have become much more complicated lately, and I find myself using a new tactic every time to see how she'll react. I think I decided about a week ago that this taunting and pranking shit that we're doing every day isn't enough. And this so called 'thing' that I've developed has become annoyingly stronger.

So strong, in fact, that I've developed a new theory on the entire matter:

Kon is an oblivious idiot that doesn't deserve her and I'm going to somehow sweep her off her feet despite the fact that she hates my guts.

Okay, so I haven't worked out all the kinks in this theory yet, but it's a start. Getting her to realize Kon isn't the guy for her should be easy – he's too damn nice! She needs to have some enjoyment in her life, as acting like the poster girlfriend for the poster boyfriend has to be sickening her as much as it's sickening m – everyone else.

I look up at the teacher, who's rattling on about something stupid like literary essays and their formats.

This year's going to be a bitch, I decide staring up at the calendar on the wall, the word 'September' written in overly flowery and loopy letters. I'm going to need a lot of plotting to go into this…and possibly some inside help...

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R & R please! 

Kuriness


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